


Ever the Same

by SpaceKase



Series: Kasey's Incredibly Late Dadvid Appreciation Week [1]
Category: Camp Camp
Genre: Child Neglect, cursing, friggin Gwen, friggin Max, like...EXCESSIVE cursing, parental neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKase/pseuds/SpaceKase
Summary: Max liked to think of this transitional period of his life as 'A Series of Contrived Coincidences Later.'Or: my incredibly late contribution to Directium's Dadvid Appreciation Week.





	1. The Moment David Became a Dad

**Author's Note:**

> I REALLY wanted to contribute to the lovely Directium's 'Dadvid Appreciation Week 2017.' Which was, like...months ago. But I didn't, because I'm a huge failure.
> 
> Better late than never?
> 
> This is another case of 'I don't know what this update schedule is gonna be;' I know the point of the week was to produce something that fit the theme every day OF that week, but I can't get my shit together long enough to do that. So, uh...bear with me?
> 
> (This particular fic will have five chapters instead of seven, because I figure that the 'Crossover AU' and 'Teen Dadvid' themes can stand on their own, but all the others could fit into the same continuity/universe/whatever. So that's how this project's gonna work!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT EDIT: I completely forgot to mention this, but I stole the surnames 'Greenwood' for David and 'Santos' for Gwen from the lovely Forestwater. Please go check out her fanfiction, if you haven't yet!

_“Max?”_

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Language!”

Ms. Chan, the social worker, looked between the two. First at the grumpy, foul-mouthed Indian-American boy whose case she’d been handling, and then at the red-haired, energetic man she’d decided would be his new foster father.

“You two know each other.” She meant it as a statement, more than a question.

David Greenwood, a white beanpole of a grown adult male, gave her a dazzling grin. “We sure do!”

The boy next to her, Max Singh, scoffed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Ms. Chan gently whapped the boy’s shoulder. “We talked about this, Max. Be nice,” she gently scolded.

“It’s all right, Ms. Chan,” said David. “He’s just trying to push my buttons. I’m used to it by now!”

“Don’t say ‘push my buttons’ again,” grumbled Max. The scowling boy had curled in on himself even more than before; his head had been pulled into his hunched shoulders, and his hands were stuffed firmly in the pocket of his hoodie. He looked at his feet, and didn’t seem to be looking up any time soon.

Ms. Chan cleared her throat. “How, exactly, _do_ you two know each other?”

“We both went to Camp Campbell together! He was one of my campers!” exclaimed David.

“My shitty ex parents didn’t want to deal with me for three months. Three years in a row,” muttered Max.

Ms. Chan frowned, and gently gripped Max’s shoulder, rubbing it in a way she hoped was comforting. Trent and Eleanor Cabot had been visited by Child Protective Services before, to no avail. Evidently the fourth time had been the charm; they’d been neglecting poor young Max, who’d already been tossed from foster family to foster family before they’d adopted him.

Really, it was no _wonder_ why the poor child was so unhappy. “Well then,” she said. “Perhaps this will add some stability to your life, Max; living with an adult you already know.”

She expected protests from the boy, maybe some more cursing

“Eh. Why not?”

She hadn’t expected that. “Er, uh…” Ms. Chan cleared her throat. “All right, then; that settles it. Mr. Greenwood, you’ll be taking care of Max for the next three weeks.”

The man practically vibrated with excitement. Ms. Chan wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it before; she’d seen foster parents who were excited to have a family, but _this_ was on an entirely different level.

Despite the man’s credentials, she began having second thoughts. As she watched Max shuffle alongside the bouncing, gangling man, she almost felt even _more_ sorry for the boy.

\---

Max kept quiet the whole ride…home, he supposed. For now. Assuming David wasn’t like his other foster families. For all Max knew, he _was;_ being a camp counselor was one thing, but actually _living_ with a kid was another.

David, naturally, didn’t shut up for the entire car ride. That was fine; it worked well enough as background noise while Max zoned out.

Much as he hated to admit it, Ms. Chan had been right. Max kind of _did_ want some familiarity right now. Even if it came in the form of the most annoying person he’d ever known.

David was an annoying person, but one who actually _gave_ a shit. Already that was a huge advantage over Eleanor and Trent.

Max gazed out the window, watching trees of all sorts pass by. Pine, cedar, birch…God, _how_ had he remembered those? Fucking David…

The car came to a stop just outside a cabin. “Here we are! Home sweet home!” exclaimed David.

Max blinked up at the building once he’d gotten out of the car. “Huh. You live in a cabin in the woods.” Why was he not surprised?

“Yeppers! My home away from home!”

“You at least have electricity and running water and all that shit, right?”

“Oh, of course! The nice people at the agency made sure of it. They’re _very_ thorough!”

That hadn’t always been the case, in Max’s experience, but David didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway.

The grand tour that David gave him wasn’t as grand as one would have expected, though it was a lot more impressive than houses and apartments Max had been to in the past. Mostly, it was in how enthusiastically David introduced him to everything.

“And this will be your room! We can decorate it however you like!”

Max glanced around at the wooden walls and the wooden floor. There was a loft bed shoved against the wall; underneath it was a desk. The room was small; he supposed that explained the loft bed. It was a good space saver.

Truth be told, Max didn’t want to change anything about it; it had more character on its own than the room Max’s last foster family had given him for three years straight.

He didn’t say that. He said “Sweet; I’ll put up some posters of girls in bikinis.”

David frowned. “You have complete creative freedom here, Max, but we’ll need to discuss the relationship you’re developing with women. I’ll get Gwen to help me.”

Max had just been making a joke, just to see how offended David would get at something so inappropriate. He hadn’t expected _that;_ not from a man who’d thrown an incredibly racially insensitive ceremony. “Great. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Once he’d placed his suitcase and his backpack there (despite Trent and Eleanor trying to buy his love on more than one occasion, he’d only packed a few possessions), David showed him the back yard. _That_ was what really caught Max’s attention. It was spacious; there were no fences. The grass and wildflowers gave way to thick trees.

It was so _David,_ it was almost painful.

“Now, here’s where I keep my vegetable garden. We’ll discuss your chores later on, but I already figured you could help me out with that, for starters. Here’s the compost heap, and here’s where I keep the recycling and trash bins.”

At least they had _that_ service here.

David stood before him in a wide stance, fists planted firmly on his hips. “So, what do you think, Max?” he asked, grinning so large it looked like it hurt.

Eleanor always told Max not to smile like that; it was unseemly. Poised and dignified, completely stoic; _that_ was how things were supposed to be, in her eyes. Nothing in the house that was crooked, or dirty, or… _natural_ , in any way.

Max shrugged. “It’ll work, Camp Man.”

David’s smile withered a bit at the corners. “Ms. Chan told me about your…previous situation, Max. I’m aware that it isn’t as glamorous as you’re probably used to, but—”

Max put a hand up. “I said it’s _fine_ , David. _This_ place actually looks like people live in it, _and_ it doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke. It’s kind of a step up.”

David folded his hands in front of him, looking no less than delighted.

Before he could say anything, Max gave his piece. “Don’t think this means I won’t keep trying to make your life Hell.”

David chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Max.”

\---

Max continued to make mischief, of course; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be Max.

But maybe he didn’t try as hard to make it, as he usually did. Maybe he did his best to keep up with his chores; maybe he did his best in school. Maybe he filled the swear jar less than he might have, at any other point of his life.

If David noticed, he was smart enough not to say anything.


	2. Don't Forget Gwen!Mom, Too!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact that David and Gwen were dating made this whole situation that much more surreal.
> 
> In a surprisingly not-sucky kind of way, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory 'I am white; I'm the whitest white person I've ever known' preface, here. These are my headcanons for these characters, and I wanted to use this chapter to get them down. However, I ALSO don't want to overstep any lines or speak for any actual groups of people out there.
> 
> If anyone's got a problem with this chapter, I'll take it down. I won't mind; it'll give me an excuse to write another thing. There's more than one way to skin a cat, after all. Er, that is to say, there's more than one way to have Gwen and Max, two incredibly cat-like characters, bond. I've written another fanfic based on it, before!
> 
> (Where'd that saying come from, anyway? Who would DO that to a poor kitty???)

A week into living with David, the man said he was going to invite his girlfriend over. All of Friday, he giggled conspiratorially to himself, like he knew something Max didn’t.

Saturday morning, who showed up at their front door but Gwen?

“Surprise, you lil’ shit.” She seemed like she was actually happy to see him, if the hair-ruffling she gave him was anything to go by.

Then she kissed David.

“You two are _dating?_ Since _when?”_

“For two months. It’s our anniversary this Sunday!” exclaimed David.

“Yep. That’s why I’m here,” said Gwen. Her tone made it clear that she thought the reason was silly.

She’d showed up, though, which definitely said something.

Max shook his head. _“Jesus,_ Gwen. _David? Seriously?_ I thought you had some _standards.”_

“Max!” exclaimed David, planting a fist in his side.

Before he could give him an earful, though, Gwen piped up. “Trust me, Max; I didn’t _used_ to. You should’ve seen the guys I used to bring home. This?” She wrapped an arm around David’s waist. “Is the start of a new, better Gwen.”

The smile on David’s face grew big, simpering, and absolutely sickening. “Aw, Gwen. I love you too.”

Max turned away from the saccharine sight while making overexaggerated gagging noises. _“God!_ I’m gonna have to see _that_ for a whole _weekend?”_

“More like a whole _week.”_

Max gazed up at Gwen in horror. She gave him a wicked smile. “Oh yeah. You heard me. We’re going to have _so_ much fun.”

 ---

It turned out that Gwen wasn’t kidding; loathe as Max was to admit it, it didn’t actually suck having Gwen around. Her general disposition was just enough to balance out David’s… _everything._ Even if the living situation _was_ better than Max would have thought, David could still get to be too much.

Besides that, it was nice having someone to bond with over certain forms of entertainment. David wasn’t much of a gamer, but Gwen was; she turned out to be really good at Overwatch. She switched between maining Pharah, Symmetra, Sombra, and Lucio; all good choices, Max thought. It was nice having someone to watch MST3K with, too; David tended to ruin it by complaining about how rude Joel, Mike, Jonah, and the bots were, for talking over the movies.

And _maybe_ it was kind of entertaining, seeing someone else have to make contributions to the swear jar, for once.

All in all, the week was going pretty well.

The real game changer, though, happened when the week was almost over. Saturday night found Max padding into the kitchen, red-eyed and sniffling.

Gwen sat at David’s home-carved wooden kitchen table. Her head popped up as his bare feet padded against the floor. “Max? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

It figured that his luck would run out, eventually. “I needed water. I’m not allowed to get water in the middle of the night?” He rushed by quick as he could, hoping Gwen didn’t see the fact that he’d been crying.

“What’s wrong, Kid?”

_Damn it._

“None of your damn business!” he snapped. He turned on the faucet, hoping that the noise of rushing water would be enough of a signal that the conversation was over.

Gwen didn’t get the message. Or she ignored it. “You wanna, like…talk about it, or…?”

“No.”

Max was almost out of the kitchen when Gwen spoke again. “I’ll make coffee. That fancy brew in the French Press; the good shit.”

If Max didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was a bribe. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Make it strong.” With that, he sat at the kitchen table while Gwen got up.

Max stayed silent until Gwen set the mug of steaming mug in front of him. “It’s stupid,” he finally muttered.

“Oh yeah?” said Gwen. “You wanna try me?”

Max shook his head. “No, seriously…it’s really fucking dumb.”

“Kid, let me ask you…how many times have you seen David cry?”

Max smiled with something akin to fondness. “Too many,” he said.

“And how many times have you seen me cry?”

“Not as much, but still a lot.”

Gwen nodded. “Trust me; I’m familiar with about crying over stupid things. The one time I ever saw you cry, on the other hand, was over something important.”

Max was still kicking himself for showing that kind of vulnerability during Parents’ Day. “Yeah. I guess.”

“If you don’t wanna tell me, you don’t have to. But for what it’s worth, I promise not to laugh.”

It was worth more than Gwen, with all her self-esteem issues, probably thought it was. Max glared down at his coffee thoughtfully. He took a gulp of it and set it down before starting to talk.

“The parents I had when I met you…they weren’t the people who gave birth to me.”

Gwen nodded. She looked interested. That meant something; Gwen wasn’t the sort of person who would pretend to be interested in things. Or people.

“My birth parents were actually pretty cool. But then Mom got deported…some bullshit about a work visa or something. So Dad had to get another job.”

“He was working more than one job? While he had you?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. The neighbors got involved, once…some racist asshole who didn’t like having to live next door to brown people called CPS, said Dad was leaving me alone for a lot of time.”

Gwen winced. “Ouch.”

“It gets worse…English wasn’t his first language. I don’t think he could defend himself. So I went to the foster care system. A few families later, the Cabots happened, and now I’m here.”

“Right; David told me a bit about that. Shit, Kid…sounds like you have a _lot_ to cry about.”

Max shook his head. “It wasn’t any of that…No matter how busy Dad was, he’d always sing me to sleep. Always in Hindi…” He smiled. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if that bitch had kept her nose out of where it didn’t belong. I’d probably still be with Dad…maybe I’d be fluent in Hindi, now.”

“Max…” Max couldn’t bear to look at Gwen right then. He _hated_ the looks of pity people tended to give him when he gave them his life story. So he settled for looking back at his coffee.

“I used to sing those lullabies to myself at night. When I got homesick, you know? I haven’t done it lately, since shit is a lot less shitty than it used to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Felt like doing it tonight. I…” Fucking Hell, he was tearing up again. He impatiently wiped them away before continuing. “I forgot a lot of the words. To a whole bunch of ‘em.”

“Oh, Max…”

“It’s not just that, either. It’s…” He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ve forgotten a lot of other shit, too. The names of the food my nani used to make, what our clothing is called…fuck, I even forgot where my parents immigrated from. You remember those costumes for that stupid Sparrow ceremony? I just _know_ I got a bunch of shit wrong.”

He let the tears fall down his cheeks in earnest, now.

And was surprised when one long finger started brushing them away. He looked up, surprised.

Gwen looked like she was about to start crying, too. “It’s not bad enough your parents were taken from you…your culture was, too. It’s not stupid to be upset about that, Max.”

Max sniffed hard. He hated crying; it was so messy. “I…didn’t think about it like that.”

Gwen smiled. “Psych major, Kid. I know how to make people think differently about shit.” She sipped her own coffee. “I’m biracial; my mom’s Black, and my dad’s Latino. I think I can kind of understand where you’re coming from.”

Max blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mom’s ancestors were slave trade victims. That’s a shitton of culture that she and I should have, but don’t; I don’t even know what country we’re from.”

“Jesus…I never thought about that, either.”

She smiled. “Yep; hearing about people being able to go way back in history and find out where they come from? Me, my mom, and her whole side of the family can’t exactly do that. It’s something a lot of people take for granted, I think.”

They drank their coffee in silence for a while before Max spoke up again. “I’ve got some Black in me, too.”

“Really?” asked Gwen.

Max nodded. “Yep! On my mom’s side; my nani was Black. She used to say that that’s where I got my hair.”

Gwen grinned. “I can see it!” she said. She lifted a hand to run it through her own auburn curls, which she was wearing down, for once. “Looks like we got that in common.”

Max smiled. “Cool!” She was also the one who’d given him Mr. Honeynuts, but Gwen didn’t need to know that.

They continued to drink their coffee. “Thanks for the coffee, Gwen. David never lets me drink it this late. Or on week days.”

Gwen smiled at him. “What David doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im.”

“That’s right.” Max drank the last of his coffee in one gulp. “That _is_ good shit.” He made to take the mug to the sink, but Gwen put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll clean up. If David notices anything, I won’t mention you; I’ll take the blame.”

“Okay…cool.” Max wrapped his arms around his waist and looked down for a moment. “Um…Gwen?”

“Hmm?” said Gwen.

Without even really thinking about it, Max wrapped his arms around Gwen’s waist. It was easier to reach, since she was still sitting down. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Gwen seemed as shocked as as Max felt, though it melted away as she gently put a hand on top of his head. “Any time, Kiddo.”

Max pulled away quickly and cleared his throat. “Don’t tell anyone about that.”

“Wasn’t planning to; they’ll have to torture it out of me.”

“Right. Okay.” With that, Max went back to bed.

His head hit the pillow completely dry.

\---

After Gwen left, the house felt too empty. It seemed to get David down, in particular; the week after, the bounce in his step and song in his voice seemed duller than usual.

Over dinner one night, when Max witnessed David letting his smile vanish when he thought he wasn’t looking, he said “I miss ‘er, too.”

“Max?”

He shrugged. “She…doesn’t suck. And neither did having her here.”

David clapped a hand over his heart and his eyes welled up with tears. “Max, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about her! You _do_ care!”

Max looked down at his food. Leftover stew that Gwen made with vegetables from David’s garden; despite David being a man of admittedly many talents, cooking was one of the few he hadn’t picked up. It had been nice, eating something home-made instead of take-out or something from a can or package. “Yeah, well…don’t get used to it. I still got a reputation to uphold.”

\---

A few months later, Max was told that Gwen would be coming for another visit.

He shrugged and said “Cool.”

Then he went and circled the date on the calendar in his room before hiding it.

No one would ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a place holder; I might change it, later.


End file.
